


Bad Things

by Quibbles



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Biting, Good Mythical Summer, Hand-job, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quibbles/pseuds/Quibbles
Summary: It's really, really hot--and so is Link.





	Bad Things

**Author's Note:**

> Pushing my boundaries by trying to write a proper smut fic.

“If we can’t get this thing fixed, I’m going home man. I can’t take this heat anymore.” Link peeres uselessly at the thermostat that controls the central air of their combined office space. “If we had an air conditioner I could at least _pretend_ I knew how to get it working again.”

Rhett chuckles quietly, having opted to let himself melt into the table instead of moving, a slow death. His cheek presses against the cool metal, seeking reprieve as he observes Link, now bent over the workbench peering at the bundle of cables behind it.  “Don’t touch anything. You’ll only make it worse.” He mumbles groggily, closing his eyes. “Just let it take you over man. Face it. This is how we die.”

“So much for surviving the apocalypse. You can’t even make it through a Saturday.” Link snaps, impatient and testy from the heat.

“ _Actually_ , I’d be smart to conserve my energy until sundown, after which I would rise, victorious and ready to take on another day, thank you very much.”

Link tosses Rhett a sideways glance. “Lemme guess, I’m already dead in this scenario.”

Rhett shrugs. “Depends man. You gunna listen to me?”

“Nope.”

“Then, yes.” Rhett follows Link with his eyes as he continued to fuss around the room. He’s still wearing his Good Mythical Summer Camp T-Shirt, his back broad and impressive beneath the thin material of the cotton tee, defined shoulders filling out the remainder of the shirt, tapering off to a narrow waist, now exposed as Link leans over the table just feet from Rhett’s gaze.

Those early morning gym sessions were _really_ starting to pay off.  

“Ok, seriously. Can you please at least look at this thing?” Link’s voice is high and tight. Rhett finally stands up, accustomed to quickly responding to this particular tone. _High and tight_ means Link is on the verge of losing it. And right now, jaw clenched tight, dragging his glasses off and rubbing aggressively at his eyes, Link is dangerously close.

“Ok, yeah.” There isn’t much space in the corner of the worktable, that small L-shaped area that had all of the cords and cables behind it, so Rhett holds Link’s waist with the intention of moving him to the side. “What am I looking at?” He asks, peering over Link’s shoulder.

“That blue cable. I think the light needs to be blinking.” Link says, his voice slightly more relaxed. Good.

Rhett’s pretty sure the light is supposed to be steady, which it already is, but he isn’t ready to test Link’s patience. And anyways, the heat is starting to get to him, making his mind all slow and slippery like molasses. Maybe the light _does_ need to be blinking. What if there’s not supposed to be a light at all?

He blinks a couple times, forcing himself to remain alert. “Ok, so, let’s get it blinking. Reach over and grab it.” He says. Link complies, and Rhett feels the muscles of his waistline contract as he bends, realizing all at once that he never did move Link out of the way, nor had he let him go, which means he’s just standing directly behind him gripping his waist. Which is weird. Weirder still is it that Link doesn’t say anything. He struggles with the cable for a while, unplugging it, waiting a few seconds, and plugging it back in, and all the while Rhett holds him around the waist. It’s a nice waist, he notes. It had always been nice, but now it’s nice in a new way, the kind of way where Rhett doesn’t want to stop holding it. He presses his thumbs into Link’s sides, feeling the warm skin give beneath his touch. He’s aware of his heartbeat pounding in his fingertips, realizes it’s also pounding in his ears, and wonders if Link can hear it too. He opens his mouth to ask but decides against it.

His thumbs slip underneath Link’s t-shirt, right along the line of his underwear. His skin is slightly damp, and it’s pleasant, touching him like this. He feels a little like a doctor, letting his gaze unfocused into the distance as he runs his fingertips against Link’s skin, slowly inching them up his back. He guesses it’s kind of strange, he’s never stood behind Link and just _touched_ him like this, and he doesn’t have a reason that makes sense, except that it feels nice.

He knows Link, and knows that if it wasn’t ok, he’d have said it by now, but he still thinks he should ask. He doesn’t have the chance to fully formulate the thought before Link makes a sound that twists a knot in his stomach, a low, rumbling sort of moan at the back of his throat. It makes him refocus his gaze, which is a mistake, because now he’s looking down at his hands on Link’s back, and it’s _such_ an attractive back, and his skin is tingling because he realizes Link is sort of gripping the table, his eyes half-lidded, gaze downcast.

Link likes massages. Right now, this is technically just that, just the gentle press of fingers against his lower back. If he stops now that’s all it has to be. But he doesn’t stop, he leans forward, closing the small gap of space between them until Link is pressed flush against him, the curve of the back of his jeans pressed right against Rhett’s cock. He reaches under the front of Link’s shirt, pushing it up and feeling the stretch of muscle there. He rests his chin against Link’s shoulder, and he can hear Link’s breath hitch when his fingers stop right above the front of his jeans. He doesn’t have a plan, but he spins Link around, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to see him.

As Rhett suspected, Link is suddenly beautiful. Rhett stares down at him, his gaze accusing. Had he always been beautiful? In minutes, something had changed, and now something about the way Link looks up at him, his expression defiant and curious, is beautiful. Rhett drinks in his features, checks them off one by one. They’re all the same, as they’ve always been, but suddenly, he can’t stop looking at them. He wants to—

“Link.” He whispers. “I think…I need you to stop me.” As he speaks, his hands have their own idea, trailing along Link’s side. He can’t stop touching him, he doesn’t want to.

Link cocks his head to the side, playing dumb. He bites his lip, and Rhett recognizes that expression, the coy, flirty gaze he gets whenever there’s a cute female guest star on the show. He’d only ever seen it in the monitor, or out of the corner of his eye as he tried to pretend not to notice, all the while jealousy building and curling in his stomach, the desperate urge to snarl ‘mine’ and take possession of Link just barely suppressed.

Now, he sees himself in Link’s eyes. Link is looking at him like that, and it makes him heady and breathless. “Stop me.” He urges again, gripping Link’s waist and trying to count backwards from ten in his mind, but he keeps losing count, arousal fucking him up, the thought of fucking Link fucking him up. And oh, now he was thinking of fucking Link, which is a brand-new thought, but already so familiar. His head throbs. Ten. Nine. An image flashes in his mind of him, on his knees in front of Link, worshiping his cock with his mouth. He’d never put his mouth on one before, but now he wants to, if it’s Link’s. And it’s so hot he can hardly breathe. Maybe that’s the problem. He has to start over. Ten. Nine.

 Link isn’t saying anything, his expression unreadable. Rhett wonders why this isn’t more surprising to him. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s in shock. He looks down, and Link is as hard as he is. He shouldn’t have looked. Link reaches out and twists his fingers in Rhett’s t-shirt, biting his lip again. He seems torn. They can’t both be torn, and Rhett is too weak. He wants, he wants—

“Stop.” Link finally says, it’s so quiet Rhett has to strain to hear it, but it’s there. He clears his throat, and tries again. “Stop.” Link shakes his head, like he’s waking himself up. He reaches for Rhett’s hands and shoves them off his waist, but he doesn’t move away.

Rhett exhales, lifting both hands in white flag submission. He tries to breathe, take control of himself, think of all the reasons this is _insane_.  If he so much as put his mouth on Link, they wouldn’t be able to turn back. Link is his best friend, his _business_ partner, a groomsman in his wedding party, for gods sake.

He moves to turn away and properly catch his breath, but Link stops him, and in a flash of movement has him pinned to the workbench, his lips ghosting Rhett’s, dangerously close. Rhett shakes his head, knowing what’s coming, already his arms snake back around Link’s waist, pulling him closer. “Your turn.” Link challenges. “Stop me.”

Rhett squeezes his eyes shut. His willpower is something he prides himself on. He should be able to do this. But Link is cruel, so fucking cruel in the way he ruts his hips upwards, and Rhett groans, losing the last semblance of control over himself and closing the distance between them in a crash of mouths.

Link’s response is immediate, his entire body giving into the kiss, arms reaching up to snake around Rhett’s neck, straining up on his tiptoes to get more of his mouth. Rhett grips Link’s waist, turning and lifting him easily onto the table behind him, pushing himself between Link’s legs and dragging him close by his waist again, all the while never breaking the kiss. Link groans against his mouth, his fingers now gripping Rhett by the shirt, pulling him closer. When he pulls away to breathe, Rhett wastes no time, sinking his teeth into Link’s exposed neck. He tastes salt and warmth, and the way Link’s fingers tighten against his shirt, his legs hooking on either side of Rhett’s hips—he wants it.

Rhett nips along Link’s jaw, back into his mouth, and Link’s fingers dig into his back. He can feel Link’s erection against his leg and he reaches between them to free him from his jeans--clumsy with the button and zipper—until his hand makes it inside, palming the front of Link’s underwear. There isn’t enough space between them for him to get Link’s cock out, and the angle’s too awkward, but Link ruts against his palm anyways, his breath hitching against Rhett’s mouth.

“Your fucking…big hands.” Rhett makes out, and hearing Link swear like that sends tingles down his spine. Link’s arms move back around his shoulders, and Rhett manages to get his fingers past the waistband of Link’s underwear, shoving his jeans down his hips in the process. He’s already slick with pre-cum, and impossibly hard. Rhett breaks away from Link’s mouth long enough to look down at his cock, and it’s so beautiful. He wants his mouth on it, but Link pulls him back in, shaking his head. “Don’t stop.” He begs, his hips jerking. “ _Don’t_ stop kissing me.”

For some reason, this is what makes Rhett blush, the way Link says that. Something about it so tender, juxtaposed with his hand working Link’s cock, pumping him closer and closer to orgasm. Link is holding Rhett for full support now, struggling to catch his breath between kisses and gasps. Rhett can feel Link’s stomach tightening, his entire body stiffening.

“Come for me Link.” He whispers, and Link whimpers in response, pressing his face into Rhett’s shoulder.

“Come for me baby.” Rhett would have been embarrassed if not for how quickly Link responds to the pet name, almost immediately jerking into his hand, convulsing as he comes, groaning long and low into Rhett’s shoulder.

The groan is accompanied by a sink of teeth into his t-shirt, and that flash of pain, coupled with the way Link’s cock throbs in his hand, come splattering all over his fingers, is almost enough to put Rhett over the edge himself. He pumps Link until he finishes, his head lolling back, lips parted, chest rising and falling quickly as he struggles to catch himself, completely undone. “Oh my god. Oh my…fucking god.” Link is whispering, shaking his head.

Rhett doesn’t want him to start thinking yet, loves seeing him like this, so he kisses Link again, and Link sinks into him, opening his mouth and letting Rhett in. It feels so utterly natural. Link tastes like sex and peppermint. It is only when Link’s breathing completely returns to normal that Rhett pulls his hand away, inspecting it.

“Stop?” He grins sheepishly.

Link chuckles, but they both know they’re fucked.


End file.
